what's there left to laugh about?

hands stuck in clay,
or phoebe bouffay,
rice pudding on your tie,
muffins that can cry,
a serious man on a bench
who falls in a pond and gets drenched,
mysterious eyebrow moves
and a 90 year old's grooves,
a knee cap wearing a mask,
or a head shaped like a flask.
so there comes a time to ask:


what's there left to laugh about?
you. and maybe sauerkraut.

New Poem

---> waiting for the desert <---

dinner started slowly

i just got my phone bill,

i flinched, it was gigantic

i shivered, felt a chill

tried not to think of desert

i took a sip of soup

the small talk seemed to matter

but things went in a loop

t'was i who couldn't listen

I wasn't anymore

my finergnails were crimson

i laughed and mimed a snore

obsessive was this desert

you didn't really count

i quickly drank my beer

the smell was all around

i felt you didn't matter

you tried to prove me wrong,

for me it didn't matter,

the smell was in my lung.

i keep it undercover

it's only i who knows-

i'm dying for this desert

but still the dinner goes

it's on and on, it's deadly

eternity is here

for me, my dear, i worry

i wish you'd let me be.

I've eaten all the courses

I've even eaten stew

It's nonsense how i've waited

My desert, just for you!

I don't believe in standards

i know not any rule

To me it's just my desert

That makes me feel i'm full.

what's the use of doors (if i don't feel like music)?

the question came from windows (oh, technology), who got jealous, being somewhat less musical. or it came from the window (where you where standing), and you got jealous, being somewhat more territorial. but music can be technical and territories don't have windows. and windows are smaller doors, they're doors for the eyes. therefore, doors are windows for the blind. or afraid. relax.